Dr. William A. Ritter
First United Methodist Church
Birmingham, Michigan
Scripture: II Corinthians 12:1-12
Slices of the Psalms
To whatever degree you are depressed….or know someone who is depressed….you have plenty of company in the Bible. Read the Psalms if you doubt this. Start with Psalm 69:1-3.
Save me, O God,
For the waters have come up to my neck.
I sink in deep mire,
Where there is no foothold;
I have come into deep waters,
And the flood sweeps over me.
I am weary with my crying;
My throat is parched.
My eyes grow dim with waiting for my God.
Or consider the helplessness of Psalm 74:9-11:
We do not see any signs;
There is no longer any prophet,
And there is no one among us who knows how long.
How long, O God, is the foe to scoff?
Is the enemy to revile your name forever?
Why do you hold back your hand?
Why do you keep your hand in your bosom?
Or listen to the low self-esteem that drips from Psalm 22:6-7:
But I am a worm, and not human;
Scorned by others, and despised by the people.
All who see me mock at me;
They make mouths at me; they wag their heads.
Or consider the description of Barzillai, the Gileadite:
Why should I go?
I can no longer discern what is pleasant from what is not.
I can no longer taste what I eat or what I drink.
I can no longer listen to the voices of singing men or singing women.
Why should I become a burden to the king?
II Samuel 19:34-35
The Sermon
Just the other day, I happened upon a letter written by a colleague. He didn’t write it to me. He wrote it to his congregation. At issue was the launching of an endowment fund. Which, given tonight’s auction, seemed timely. So I read it. Along about the fourth paragraph he wrote:
No one who invests in God will go unblessed.
No one who believes in God will be ineffective.
No one who plants seeds for God will go unrewarded.
And no one who rejoices in God will ever be depressed.
Which was a good letter. As to how much money it generated, who can say? If I have any quarrel, however, it is with the overly optimistic note of his promises…. especially the one which reads: “No one who rejoices in God will ever be depressed.” For the fact is, lots of people are….depressed, I mean. And many of them rejoice deeply in God.
We have talked of this before, you and I. You know, from hearing me say it, that depression, as a malady, is as old as the Bible and as new as this morning’s message. Last year, nearly 18 million people were treated for some form of it, and many of them worship in this sanctuary on a regular basis. But they still feel isolated and alone….even in church.
Which is not to say that worship shouldn’t be praise-filled and joyful. Very few people would continue to attend a church that left them feeling worse than when they entered. But it is also true that people sometimes feel they must check all negative emotions at the door in order to participate in the singing of hymns, the saying of prayers and the hearing of sermons. One of the contemporary hymns we love to sing features the following lyric:
Why so downcast, O my soul?
Put your hope in God, put your hope in God.
Bless the Lord, he’s the lifter of my countenance.
Bless the Lord, he’s the lifter of my head.
Which is sage biblical advice, drawn from the 42nd Psalm. But you can see how it could affect someone who entered the sanctuary “in the pits,” as they say.
A year ago I wrote: “All of us get the blues from time to time. Like when it rains….or when the sun don’t shine….or when our baby leaves us….or when anything else leaves us (like job or child, health or hope). ‘Sometimes I’m up, sometimes I’m down’ sings the hitchhiker on the Jesus chariot. And he’s right, of course. We all get ‘down’ sometimes….even we who love the Lord. Sooner or later, all God’s chill’un gonna crash. But when we hit bottom and don’t bounce, that’s not the blues. That’s something deeper….darker….and decidedly different.”
What it is, is depression. Which is no respecter of persons….or professions of faith, for that matter. Christians are not exempt. Methodists are not exempt. Hard-working, Bible-carrying, spirit-loving church members are not exempt. Preachers and teachers are not exempt. I have friends in the ministry who struggle mightily with this malady. A few of them, openly. Most of them, secretly. Every time I call one colleague and ask, “How is it going?”, she responds: “We’re having fun.” But the fact of the matter is, she isn’t. At least not so as I can see. Which we could talk about. But we never do.
All of which brings me to Susan Gregg-Schroeder. As you have noted in Steeple Notes, she is among us for the next few days. I look forward to lunching with her later this morning, hearing her on Tuesday and Wednesday evenings, and introducing her to several of my clergy friends on Wednesday morning. In short, she has come to tell her story….much of which is personal…. some of which is painful. But her telling of it is profoundly pastoral. Meaning that she will give us reasons for hope and courage.
Susan has been in the ministry for nearly 15 years after having taught kindergarten for another 15 years. She serves on the staff of First United Methodist Church, San Diego (where her specialty is pastoral care and counseling). She is a published author, including her book on grace in the midst of depression entitled In the Shadow of God’s Wings. Let me quote just enough to whet your appetite, without stepping on the hem of her presentation. She writes:
The symptoms were there, but I didn’t recognize what was happening to me. Sadness and despair overwhelmed me. I felt disoriented and disconnected from my feelings and myself. I did not want to eat. I couldn’t sleep. Nothing I did brought any pleasure. I was simply going through the motions. All I wanted to do was isolate myself from everyone. Any task I attempted took great effort. I felt utterly hopeless about the future. Soon I got to the point of believing that life was not worth living and I developed an elaborate suicide plan. Yet, at the same time, I couldn’t concentrate or think clearly. I felt as if I were falling into a bottomless black hole and saw no way out. I avoided the people who could help me most.
There is much that led to that point. And much, much more that followed it. Susan ended up hospitalized, although she secured a weekend pass to participate in Sunday services at her church. That’s because the congregation did not know of her hospitalization. When her veil of secrecy was finally shredded, more than one parishioner said sympathetically: “We never knew. You seemed so normal.” Little did they know that the effort it took to project an appearance of normalcy was so overwhelming that she usually spent Sunday afternoons in bed.
It would be nice to say that one hospitalization was all it took. Just as it would be nice to say that one prescription was all it took….one visit to a therapist was all it took….one meeting with a support group was all it took….or one evening spent fervently in prayer was all it took. But it wasn’t.
Susan continues:
I wish I could say that my depression magically left, but I can’t. It has been a continuing struggle with bouts of depression as I have worked in therapy through difficult childhood issues. I was not one of those who found the right medication on the first try, and thyroid problems further complicated my chemical imbalance. I was admitted to the hospital twice more over the next two years.
Over time I have come to understand that my depression is a chronic condition. I have accepted the fact that I will probably be taking medication for a long time….if not the rest of my life. But I have also learned the warning signs of a downward spiral and have gained some coping skills.
As to the rest of the story, it is Susan’s to tell, not mine. But it isn’t the first time I have heard it. That’s because many of you have lived it and have been willing to share it. Like most amateurs in this field, I know that depression has many origins. Some of them are situational. Others of them are chemical. Situational depression is called “reactive”….meaning that it comes in response to an identifiable event. We sometimes equate this with feeling “down”….“blue”….or “moody.” When we connect the feeling to the event that precipitated it, most people understand.
Chemical depression, however, is called “endogenous.” It often runs in families, makes its initial appearance in adolescence, and is experienced at particular seasons rather than in response to particular events. Sometimes it comes as the secondary effect of another disease such as diabetes, chronic fatigue syndrome, alcoholism or a hypothyroid condition. And then there is biochemical depression that is linked with Mania….often called Bi-polar Disease. Experts can help you understand all of the above. Unfortunately, I am not one of them. So I will stick to my territory, confident that they are well versed in theirs. And the same can be said for treatment plans, of which there are more and more all the time. Some begin with therapy. Others begin with pharmacology. There is no reason for anyone to feel hopeless in the face of a diagnosis. No reason at all.
But there are some things I can say that might not be said elsewhere….things unique to my profession. Let’s start with God. More to the point, let’s start where God starts….which is in the very worst places….at the very worst times. God never says: “Fight your way through the forest by yourself and I’ll meet you when you reach the glade.” God is there when the skies are dark, the trees are thick, and all the animals (real and imagined) have voracious appetites. Which is another way of saying that, even without a map, God can find his way down deep valleys and dark alleys, not to mention dead end streets. But then you know that, given your life-long love of the 23rd Psalm.
But how do I make that real to you? Fortunately, I’ve got Susan to help me. In her book, she talks about one of her hospital stays. Her spiritual director paid her a visit, bringing Holy Communion with him. All of us know that the sacrament can be celebrated anywhere. But on this particular occasion, there was nothing in the bare-bones room to suggest a proper liturgical setting….no cross….no candles….no altar….not even a table. Looking around, they found a trash can. After emptying its contents, they turned it upside down….transforming it into an altar.
What a double-edged action. Would that we all could pitch the trash before lifting the cup. But pitch it, she did. And lift it, she did. There, with an upside-down wastebasket as an altar, Susan experienced God’s presence in one of the darkest and most difficult hours of her life.
Once we concede that God can meet us anywhere, we open ourselves to the possibilities that God can heal us anywhere. But it helps if we cut God some slack relative to what healing looks like. On the cover of Steeple Notes, I alluded to the fact that we Christians love dramatic victories. Cancer, gone. Crutches, gone. Addiction and affliction, gone. Doubt and despair, gone. Beaten back forever….left in the dust….never to return again. Which is how it sometimes happens. Don’t ask me why it doesn’t happen that way more often. Because I don’t know. I simply don’t know.
What I do know is that many of us fight against forces that are not easily defeated. We beat them back. But we never quite leave them behind. The more I thought about this, the more my thoughts turned to the Apostle Paul and his much-debated “thorn in the flesh” that he shared with the people of Corinth. Three times he prayed urgently that it might depart from him. But it never did. Whereupon he stopped praying for a once-and-for-all victory and began trying to discern whatever blessings there might be in the midst of his problem.
I spent the last couple of days researching Paul’s “thorn”….wondering what it could have been that made him so miserable. Everybody has a theory. Nobody has an answer. The ideas can be grouped in three columns. The first column associates Paul’s “thorn” with the ongoing persecution he experienced in his travels. Lots of it, physical. Some of it, legal. Much of it, spiritual. Paul created tons of opposition and was forced to pay for it. He was beaten, stoned, flogged and imprisoned. And that was only the tip of the iceberg. Worse yet were the number of people who heard the best that Paul could preach, but turned a deaf ear and a hard heart. In short, he didn’t get through.
The second column identifies physical difficulties. I’ve read well-reasoned arguments that Paul suffered from epilepsy, migraine headaches, irritable bowel syndrome, or a speech impediment. As a preacher, I can’t imagine having a speech impediment. Maybe Paul stuttered. And at the bottom of this column is the suggestion that Paul was less than pleasing to look at…. meaning that he was ugly. Perhaps there was some disfigurement which hindered him in his work.
The third column veers in the direction of a moral or spiritual problem. A favorite view in the Middle Ages was that Paul suffered the torment of sexual temptations. Luther, himself, believed this. And none other than Bishop John Shelby Spong of the Episcopal Church (who is both radical and inflammatory, but far from stupid) has suggested that Paul’s sexual temptation had more to do with men than women. Whatever be the strength of these arguments, it is clear that some unresolved aspect of his nature led Paul to feel both incredibly unworthy and unredeemably guilty.
Ironically, there have even been suggestions that Paul suffered from states of depression. Given the Pauline mood swings between mania and melancholy, it is not totally beyond the pale to ponder Paul as bi-polar.
But all such considerations aside, Paul believed that God’s strength was sufficient for his weakness….that God’s grace was sufficient for his guilt….and that God’s presence was the one thing necessary to ensure his contentment. Which, when you hear Susan’s story, will resonate with some of the things she will say. Her depression has not been defeated. But neither has she been defeated. Lessons have been learned. Blessings have been found.
· A friend she wouldn’t have met otherwise.
· A truth she wouldn’t have learned otherwise.
· A creativity she wouldn’t have uncovered otherwise.
· A sensitivity she wouldn’t have developed otherwise.
I am sure she will tell you that this is not the ministry she felt called to….dreamed of….trained for….or entered. But this is the ministry into which she has grown, and who can count the number of lives it has touched or changed? She writes:
Most people view depression as something to “get over”….something to conquer as quickly as possible. As insurance companies try to become more cost effective, they cover less and less mental health care. The emphasis is on short-term therapy as a way of moving people through the system as quickly as possible.
Yet depression is not something to overcome, conquer or defeat. Making depression our adversary sets up a confrontation where there is a clear winner and loser. In my experience, whenever I adopt a “battle mentality,” I feel more disconnected from myself….and, consequently, become more depressed.
Which is not to prohibit asking God for help in defeating this. After all, Paul gave it a trio of tries. But then he changed the question, asking what he and God could accomplish through this…. whatever “this” was.
Today is Choir Recognition Sunday. And we are incredibly blessed with the quality of the music we experience on a weekly basis. I can never remember whether music is supposed to soothe the savage beast or the troubled breast. I suspect it does both. There is no record of anybody singing to Paul. But there is a clear record of David playing for Saul. And whatever the demons were that possessed Saul by day, they seemed to slip back into the woodwork when David played for him by night.
I pondered having us sing the hymn I quoted earlier in the sermon. But I feared it might trivialize the very thing I wanted to say….namely, that the “downcast soul” properly belongs in the sanctuary and can be offered to God just as it is….apart from the assumption that God will immediately lift or change it. I like the hymn. But we’ll save it for another time.
Instead, we will close this morning’s service with one of my all-time favorite hymns, “Spirit of God, Descend Upon My Heart.” I find the language of the second verse absolutely incredible.
I ask no dreams, no prophet ecstasies,
No sudden rending of the veil of clay,
No angel visitant; no opening skies,
Just take the dimness of my soul away.
Emotionally, I am one of the even keel ones. I seldom get terribly high. But, then, I don’t fall terribly low, either. As to whatever chemistry there is in my brain, it seems to work….praise God. But I had both a father and a sister who died from “dimness of soul” at age 57 and 45, respectively. To be sure, that’s not what the coroner reported. And there were a host of contributing factors, much too long to go into here. But over the last five years each of them lived, I watched their lights dim until there was barely 15 watts’ worth of illumination in their respective souls. Then there were none. And the fact that I regularly preached the one who John says is the “world’s true light,” couldn’t make up for the darkness that was consuming their lives.
The hymn writer, George Croly, was not looking for dramatic interventions, descending angels or darkness-shattering explosions of glory. Instead, he was simply offering his “dimness of soul” in prayer, asking that (in the midst of it) God might do with it whatever could be done. I don’t have the faintest idea whether God “took it away.” But God unlocked the creativity that gave us a wonderful hymn. Sing it with me.
Note: As acknowledged in the sermon, I am indebted to Susan Gregg-Schroeder’s book, In the Shadow of God’s Wings: Grace in the Midst of Depression. As concerns my understanding Paul’s “thorn in the flesh,” I consulted a number of textual commentaries. But the most exhaustive treatment of the subject was offered by Victor Paul Furnish in his Anchor Bible volume, II Corinthians: A New Translation With Introduction and Commentary
